"’I ain’t never arst you for no milk tickets,’ I says; ’I ain’t never arst you for nothing. Me ’usband is in work, and I kin buy me own milk, and I kin buy me own doctorin’.’ "’It’s a disgrace,’ she says. ’If the vicar was to ’ear of it ’e would be furious,’ she says. "’Then I shouldn’t tell ’im, miss,’ says I. "’Why?’ she says. "’Because,’ I says, ’it isn’t a sister’s place to put ’er brother into tempers.’ "She raised ’er forrid at me. ’You seem to forgit,’ says she, ’as you are talkin’ to a lady.’ "’Quite right,’ I answers, ’so I did.’ "She looks at me solemn for a little while, and then she says, in a sort o’ ’lift-’im-gently’ voice, she says, ’I suppose we shall ’ave to let you ’ave some milk tickets. I will talk to Miss Perkins,’ she says. "’But, if you please, miss,’ I tells ’er, ’I don’t _want_ any milk tickets. I got as much milk to drink as ever I want.’ "’Nonsense!’ she says. ’I will talk to Miss Perkins. A pore woman like you are didn’t oughter be ’ere at all. You oughter be in the infirmary gettin’ proper attention, instead o’ wasting money on doctors.’ "’But my man is in work,’ I tells ’er once more. I rubbed in that point ’cause I thought per’aps she was ignorant about it—’im goin’ to work under the name of Rogers. But it didn’t satisfy ’er, bless you. "’Your ’usband ’avin’ work ’as got nothink to do wiv it,’ she says. ’All the more reason,’ she says, ’for you to save the money while it is comin’ in,’ she says. ’Your Doctor Brinks, indeed! What’s the good of us Church people gettin’ up all these kind things for you if you go an’ get ill in this ’igh-stepping fashion,’ says she, ’with your private medicine and your private doctors? Wasting your husband’s money.’ "’E don’t complain,’ I says. ’’E likes me to be independent.’ "’Nonsense!’ she says. ’The idea! People in your position can’t afford to be independent. What you working people are coming to is really remarkable,’ she says. ’Ere’s me an’ the vicar, an’ Miss Perkins, and the ’ole Church workin’ ’ard for you all day long, and all the reward we get is a lot of impertinent talk about independence! ’Owever,’ she says, ’I’ll see as you get the milk.’ "’But,’ I tells ’er fur the twentieth time, ’I don’t want no milk.’ "’Fiddlesticks!’ says she; ’I’ll talk to Miss Perkins. You kin ’ave a pint a day for a fortnight.’ "’On’y,’ I says, ’I don’t _want_ no milk.’ "’My good woman,’ says she, ’you don’t know what you want. Nor it ain’t your place to know. Your place is to take what’s given you an’ be respectful. Next time you see your Doctor Brink, you kin tell ’im I told you so.’" * * * * * "So that," pursued the visitor, "is what I mean, Doctor, when I say be damned to ’er blarsted milk. Do you follow my meaning?" "Perfectly," said the doctor again, as he grasped the rebel’s hand. "Perfectly, Mrs. Donovan." "Mrs. Wilson, if you please, Doctor," corrected the lady.